


Nothing dares to be enduring

by signalbeam



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Canon-Typical Sibling Relationships, Gen, Islands, Turtles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4381322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signalbeam/pseuds/signalbeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miki and Kozue, at seventeen, in search of teenage fencing incest turtles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing dares to be enduring

... there had been an unusual number of monkeys in his youth. A single monkey, true, but already more monkeys than his life could ever hope to justify. And there had been plenty of snails and slugs and snakes, never mind the elephants and the kangaroos and birds with uncanny timing. So for this reason waking up with an octopus on his pillow drew from him not screams or terror, but frustration: he was jetlagged and would have rather slept. The octopus kept probing at his gum line, reaching around to his tonsils, and soon he sat up and pried it off his face. You never knew whether the octopuses of today might grow to be the orthodontists of tomorrow, but you'd hope they'd evolve to something less slimy first. 

Miki grabbed the octopus by its head, yanked it off his face, and sat up. He had left the window open the night before. So that thing had crawled out of the water, stuck to the wall, and popped into his room? How weird.

Extending from the common room was a small pier made with new wood, white sand beneath bright water leading out to the warm Pacific. The hotel suites formed an open ring out to the ocean, and the huge glass door and windows made it possible for anyone to see anyone—and what a shame, chirped the pamphlets, to deny yourself the light of the morning sun! Or, if you were on Miki's side of the resort, the sunset. Not that it mattered: down here it was bright nearly all hours, summer hounding night from east to west then back again in a vicious track. Flowers strained towards life then more life. Even in town the cats and stray dogs gobbled up the fish guts before they could rot, though you could still smell it in the air: those creatures lounged about in the shade all day with panting, open mouths, and at night they ran about the town, howling their heads off or caterwauling, all the while giving off stink. He had hardly slept since he got here. 

“There you go,” he said, lowering his fist into the water. The octopus squelched, then set itself free, and Miki rose back to his feet. He cracked his back—ooph! At seventeen, he had finally gained the ability to crack his knuckles audibly, and his back, and just one knee. It made him feel manful and more intimidating. 

He tried to keep his eyes straight on the horizon, but his eye kept catching flashes of color and movement in the peripheral: someone's TV set to a European football game, a single magenta bathrobe pacing on their pier, and—and a girl, with a man, visible through the glass. He flexed his hand, then flexed it again. Across a small distance of ocean, Kozue put a hand over her smiling mouth, and waved. 

*** 

“Research,” Miki said, since Kozue had asked first.

“What a coincidence. Me too.”

They were getting breakfast at the café, seated at a too-small circular table, the two of them alone. The rest of Miki's team had already gone to the lab. Kozue's—whatever he was—had been asked to stay in his room. Their morning drinks—tea for him, mimosa for her—bumped against one another, then their arms, then each other again, both glasses sparkling in the luminous sun. 

It had been a few years since they had seen each other. After that academy they went to shut down—all the investors forgot the school's name? the chairman had a fit? someone died? many people died? what happened, exactly?—Kozue had been enrolled at some other boarding school to finish high school and Miki had gone off to college. 

They were seventeen. Neither of them went home for breaks. Her letters had been brief to the point of rudeness. She had sent no photographs. Face-to-face, Kozue seemed impossibly lithe, as though if she turned a few degrees to the left or to the right, she might disappear, like a needle viewed point on. But of course certain physical facts made this improbable: the roundness of her upper arms, the declarative swoop of her cheek and nose, the mindless protrusions of her breasts.

Kozue put her nose right against the rim of her glass and took a long sniff. “To think that Miki would choose to work somewhere so decadent.”

Where was the toast? Miki poured himself more tea. “Are you here alone?” 

“No.”

“So, is this a school trip, then?” he said, pulling at his shirt collar to get more room to breathe. “No one told me you'd be here. And to think that you're using your time here to be with some—I can't believe you’re _still_ —I haven't seen you since—you'll ruin yourself at this rate! Thank you,” he said to the waitress. “Could I get more hot water? Thank you very much.” 

Kozue waited until the waitress had left before taking two loud sucks from her straw. “ _I_ can't believe _you're_ still,” she said, her face twisting, then relaxing so she could drink some more. “Haven't you grown up, even a little?”

“I'm studying mathematical models of genetic diversity in coral reef sea urchins,” he said. He finished off his tea, gathered up his toast, and tried to get his wallet while still holding buttered bread. “Does Father even know you're—”

“Running away as always—”

“ _You’re_ the one who wanted to save the birds—”

There was a terrible clatter as their legs banged together beneath the table. The table swung to the left, to the right, then fell in a great smash of plates and glass. Miki ducked down to clean up. Kozue followed. Her skirt flared as it absorbed her legs into its folds. 

“Turtles,” she said. 

He looked up from the glass shards. 

“Working with local governments to protect endangered species.” Her cheeks turned pink. “It's a volunteer group at school. Do you want to see them?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then tonight. At midnight. Come find me.” 

The waiters and waitresses descended on them then to sweep up the mess. She held some pieces of ceramic plate in her palm, and gazed on the fragments with a conniving smile. 

***

He left the lab at sunset and headed straight for the beach close to the hotel to look for turtles. Where did turtles on this island even put their eggs? He didn’t know. His laptop case was slung over his back, dampened by heat and humidity. The wind for once was dead. 

The beach was nearly empty, but nearby was a woman in an orange bikini sitting under an orange umbrella. Her hair in the sun shone yellow, but where the shadow fell turned rich russet—

“Ah,” said Juri, letting her shades drop down her nose. “It's been a while.”

“Juri-san!” He jogged over to the beach. “What are you doing here?”

“Don't you get the alumni newspaper?” she said, standing to meet him. “Rated seventh best places to forget an old love.” She laughed, dry as always. Grains of sand stuck on her bare shoulder, stubborn specks of almost-gold. 

“So you're here... alone?” he said. 

She took him by the arm, and led him to her spot on the beach. “I finally had the chance to use some vacation days, and my agent found a good bargain for me here. Ah, it'd be a nice place to bring a girl someday, but now I've wasted my shot.” 

“Wasted your shot?” 

“I never return to a luxury island I've already been to.” 

“Oh.” 

“Countries are okay,” she said thoughtfully, sipping from her mojito. “As long as you stay in different cities.” 

“Do you know where I might find some turtles?” 

“Turt... Miki, is that a metaphor?” 

“It’s not what you think! My sister’s here saving turtles.” 

Juri passed him some sunblock. Her face was twisted in an expression that could only mean incredulity. He, too, could hardly believe himself. That after five years, he could still get worked up by his sister messing around with some guy—that his sister would seek these men out, not just to work him up, but out of her own pleasure. 

“Come,” she said with a sigh. “We're going drinking.” 

*** 

“This is peer pressure, isn't it?” he said, sipping the Cosmopolitan through a red straw. The ice cubes in his drink drifted apart, bumped against a stranger, then floated away again. Someone had probably published a paper about this. The traffic of ice cubes in an enclosed space. 

“Suit yourself,” she said. “These are the best cocktails on the longitude. Your voice has dropped and you've gotten taller, but your heart is still that of a moral Molly's.” 

“I didn’t know you had turned into that kind of person,” Miki said. “You’re so frivolous and careless. I don’t know you at all.” 

“Don’t mistake me,” she said, hard. “I’m here on vacation. I don’t have anything to prove here. I’ve learned my lessons, then learned new ones—even if you haven’t learned yours.” 

They sat in silence. A cow strolled by, dragging along a young boy shouting, Wait, wait! 

“Did you know that she loves animals?” he said. 

“Oh, really?” 

He drew the Cosmopolitan closer to him, and took a sip. 

When was it that his sister had come to love animals? It hadn't been during their childhood, though truthfully he had trouble remembering what she had been into then. She flinched away from everything he brought home. Nothing he liked escaped her distaste. She had grown up small and huddled despite his encouragement, then, just to prove how futile his attempts at nurturing had been, she tore up her skirt and went marching into the glories of men's arms. 

His wild sister had turned into the kind of girl who was capable of loving. If he had been reunited with her on the streets of her high school in Tokyo, he wouldn't have ever known that his sister could be a better girl running around in the sand, her skin burning, than she could be in the narrow shelter of tall city buildings, pale as milk. 

“I used to think she only played with them to make me jealous.” 

“You only like girls who are nice to things smaller than them,” Juri said. “Don't you think it's time you start thinking about how they treat people?” 

“What other girls?” he said. 

She looked at him, lips already moving. Her face constricted. 

“I can't remember.” 

*** 

Miki drank too much and had to be taken back to his room. Juri dropped him off, and went to look for Kozue. 

Juri had an idea where Kozue might be. There were only so many bars on the island, and if you were planning on going back to someone's room, you might as well just use the hotel's. Nine o'clock passed, then ten. It was ten thirty when Kozue came in with a group of her friends, eleven fifteen when Kozue broke away from them and settled, on her own, at a small table near the back. She met Juri's eye, smiled, then looked away. Even that small motion could have disarmed a less prepared person. You wondered what those eyes were made of that made them so graceful in their scorn; what it was about you that inspired the light to fall on her turning cheek with such shyness. 

Juri picked up her drink and sat next to Kozue. 

“Arisugawa-senpai,” she said. “So Miki sent you. Typical.” 

“Miki’s asleep. I thought I'd say hello. Miki tells me you're studying turtles.” 

Beneath the table, Kozue flexed her foot. Her toes grazed along Juri's shin. “I like drawing people out of their shells.” 

She should have known better than to start off by talking about animals. 

Kozue pointed at her drink with a pinky. Juri shrugged, and held it up so Kozue could sip from the rim. Her tongue flicked the pale drink like a fly's proboscis. 

“I've seen pictures of you from when you were little. You and Miki looked more alike when you were children.” 

“We weren't made identical,” she said. “I'm not as sentimental, for example.” 

“I don't believe that.”

“Believe what you want. Is that all?” Because otherwise, Kozue implied with a nod of her head to some faraway suitor, I have places to be. 

“Let Miki go,” she said. “You're both seventeen. Clinging onto each other like this is excessive.” 

“Would you say that someone who is seventeen is an adult?” 

“More or less. In some ways.”

“I've been an adult for a long time now,” Kozue said. Remarkably, she did not sound ridiculous or insane, although Juri disbelieved her almost the instant she said it. Kozue wrapped her fingers along the stem of Juri's drink. Her palm covered Juri's fingers; her fingers were cool against the back of Juri's hand. Juri flinched away, as though from fright. The drink transferred possession seamlessly, rolling into Kozue's palm. Her cheeks flushed with triumph. She reached up to her shirt and undid a button to relieve herself of some heat. “Come with me,” she said, daring. “I'll show you the turtles. We really are caring for them. You'll see.”

*** 

“Really, just where are you going?” Arisugawa said behind her. 

They had plunged out of the village and into the jungle. Brambles and thorns caught against Kozue's legs and skirt. She imagined Arisugawa coming out the other end of the jungle with her loose curls hassled by burrs. 

“Inland,” Kozue said. 

“Not to the ocean?” 

“Oh. Those are different turtles from the one we're working with.” Her skirt caught on a branch. She gave it a tug. It ripped almost all the way to her hip. 

“Here,” Arisugawa said, with Kozue's least favorite kind of condescension heavy in her voice. She passed Kozue a cardigan. 

“Do you keep that to put around girls' shoulders?” Kozue said, peeling it off her and pinching it between her thumb and middle finger. She handed it back to Juri. “I'm not going to have this wrapped around my waist and flapping around my butt.” 

“Suit yourself,” said Arisugawa, eyeballing her thigh with distaste. 

Ordinarily Kozue might hitch it up into a makeshift sarong. But with Arisugawa behind her, she figured it best to leave it be. 

Further into the dark green night. The footpath, first wide enough for two people to pass by one another without having to change course, was now just a few bare patches of dirt separated by squashed fruit and spoiling flesh. Bugs crowded around them, landing and darting across their feet and shins. More bugs floated around their heads. Kozue flicked them away with a turn of her hand. Then her foot caught on something furry and she plunged into the soft earth with a shriek. 

“Are you all right?” Arisugawa said, crouching beside Kozue in an instant. 

“I'm—oh, you rat!” The monkey curled around her ankle, chittering with glee. She kicked out and flung the ugly creature back into the trees. The leaves rustled and seemed to cackle. Arisugawa reared back, then glared down at Kozue. “I didn't have anything to do with that.” 

“You didn't?” Her hair flashed briefly into light. Not a single burr stuck onto those bouncing curls. 

“How could I have?” She pushed Arisugawa away, first with her palm, then rolling up to her fingers. Then, fascinated by the softness laid over her bony shoulder, she turned her hand over, to feel Arisugawa's heat seep through her nails into the bed beneath. Her breasts pressed into Kozue's forearm. Disgust welled up beneath the surface of Arisugawa's eyes. Blue, she noticed for the first time. Or green. You could see her pupil arrested in the center of pale color. “Are you surprised?” she said. 

“Nothing you do could surprise me.” Her face hovered in front of Kozue, narrowing like the side of a knife. She tugged Kozue up for a kiss. When she drew back, her face screwed up as though she had drunk from something bitter. “There,” she said. “There. Are you happy?” 

“I hate it when women blame me for things they do,” Kozue said. “If you want me, then take me. How pathetic can you get?” 

“Take what, want what? Oh. I see.” _Out here?_ her squint seemed to be saying. “Those kinds of tactics don't work on me.” 

Oh, please. Kozue had seen Arisugawa handle boys before: her amused smile, the lack of elegance in her refusals. She didn't care if they escaped with their dignity intact or if they just smashed against the blunt reality of her disinterest. Whatever happened once she turned her back was beyond her caring. 

And conversely, she was always gentle with the girls. Scripted gentleness—so many solicitations!— but with real warmth. The script even included a thank you. Thank you, she would say, already thinking of what to get for dinner, or whether she had remembered to write down her math homework. On cue, the confessor would begin to cry and dinner or homework or whatever it was would wait until the girl was taken care of and could go without tears in her eyes. Kozue could imagine Arisugawa kissing a girl to make her stop crying, if she was really desperate to eat. 

Arisugawa said, terse, “We still haven't seen the turtles.”

***

She took Arisugawa deeper into the woods, to the large, clear lake in the middle. The whole island had once been a volcano, and over the years dirt and sand had built around the gaping volcanic rim. The lake was nearly two hundred meters deep at the middle, but the sides sloped in such a way that the true depth was not apparent until you were almost right there in the middle. 

Around the lake were small turtles on their backs, rocking themselves back and forth and wiggling their little green legs. Each turtle was about as long as her forearm with heavily domed shells. 

“Oh, those monkeys,” Kozue said, kneeling down and flipping them over. Arisugawa helped, working on another cluster a few meters away. “The monkeys were imported by a local as pets. But they escaped and started breeding, and now they're killing off the turtles.” 

“Hmm,” Arisugawa said. 

“We're thinking about sterilizing the monkeys and sending a few breeding pairs to some scientists.” 

“Why not move the turtles to the ocean?”

“They're freshwater. But they're beautiful, so people want to save them. If we stopped, they'd probably all die.” If only the sun were out. Then Kozue would be able to show her: the veins of gold trapped beneath their obsidian carapaces, their cute old man necks and beaky mouths. “Do you want to take one home? We could take it to a zoo and start a breeding program.”

“No.” 

“Too bad.” She took a turtle and tested its heft. Then she flung it into the lake. 

Arisugawa seized her by the wrist, wrenched her hand high into the air. “What are you doing?” she said. “After all that you've done to try to save them?” 

“Let go of me,” Kozue said. When Arisugawa's grip grew tighter, she shifted her feet so Arisugawa fell towards her. Then she grabbed Arisugawa's shirt and yanked her sideways so she would fall into the lake—but she didn't let go. They crashed into the water, rolling down the sloping lake bottom until Kozue's skirt caught, then ripped free. 

*** 

There was one other problem with the monkeys, and that was the horses. “Ponies” might be a better way to describe them, given their small size and their willful, evil natures. The monkeys would pelt rocks at the ponies to lure them to the lake, then yank on their tails. The ponies would rear up and rampage wildly, smashing the helpless, belly-up turtles beneath their hooves. The ponies had been seen eating the bits of turtles the monkeys didn't loot. And on top of that, they could swim. 

“I don't believe it,” said Arisugawa. They were on their way back to the hotel. Already they were out of the jungle and walked beside one another along the slicing edge of the beach. In the approaching dawn, Kozue could see a strip of smeared dirt along her jaw, but it only served to make her look more glamorous. 

“Believe what you want,” Kozue said. “I've seen it myself.” 

“For one thing, I've never seen a horse on this island.” 

“Well, you've never come inland, have you? There's more of it past the lake. I could take you.” 

“I'd rather go to bed.” She sounded wistful, as though speaking of a beloved childhood pet. 

“Are you going to see my brother?” 

“If he can find me.” 

“What will you tell him?” 

“Who knows. His sister took me through the woods and drowned a turtle. That seems to be about the sum of it.” 

They could swim. She wouldn’t have thrown it in otherwise. Obviously. There was no convincing some people. 

“I think about him sometimes.” She said this clearly, deliberately. She said it to provoke interest. It worked: Arisugawa narrowed her eyes. “Tell him that when you see him. I think about him sometimes and he doesn’t impress me anymore. He should try to find me. If he can.” 

“Tell him yourself,” Arisugawa said tartly. “Or write him a letter. I’m on vacation.” She took out a scrap of paper she had tucked away in her pocket—a pen, too. She wrote down Miki’s room number. Kozue tucked the paper and pen into her bra. Arisugawa raised an eyebrow, and said, just under her breath, “Impressive.” 

It was time for them to part ways. Kozue was tempted to go for a kiss, then decided against it. It didn’t seem like Arisugawa’s thing. 

“There’s one thing I wanted to know,” she said. “Whatever happened to Takatsuki-san?”

“Shiori? She turned into a car. She caught a ride on a freighter back to Japan, once she drove herself to Vancouver. And now she’s a human living somewhere in Tokyo. More or less.” 

“What?” 

*** 

When he woke up, he had a headache. It was just past dawn. He was exhausted. He was in his room. Someone had dropped him in the middle of the bed and stuck a pillow on top of his face. 

What had happened? He had gone out with Juri and he had a drink and… and now it was dawn. 

He was late, then. Kozue was gone—she wouldn’t have waited for him. She was always like that, walking away if she wasn’t happy with him. Miki rubbed at his eyes. Too late for them now, he thought. She had given up on him, and he on her. Better go check on those assays… 

He meant to go to the deck, stand there and observe clarity of the water. Instead there was a dark, sky-colored lump crumpled against the glass door, separating his room from the pier. He opened the door and shouted, “Kozue!” 

She was wearing a white blouse, but the bottom half of the outfit seemed to have been displaced and her legs were bare from her navy-striped underwear down. Her blouse was wet, as was her hair. When he called her name, she shook her limbs as she stirred, like a cat casting off dew. 

“Finally, you’re awake,” she said. She brushed off his attempts to help her up and went to sit on his bed. “I was wondering how long I’d have to wait.” 

“What are you doing here?” he said. He thought becoming an adult would make him more resistant to her machinations. Instead his stomach seemed to be frothing with furious curiosity. 

She held her blouse away from her body and snapped her wrist, so a spray of water flew out from the fabric. Her stomach glistened beneath the cotton. “Typical Miki. You always wanted to get rid of me. Do you know what I did last night, after you blew me off?”

“Stop it. I don’t care anymore. You can do as you like.” 

“I went to see the turtles with Arisugawa-senpai.” 

“I told you, I don’t care.” But his jaw clenched and he had to look away. Why did she always do this to him? Some might say he was being vain, that there was no reason for him to believe that she meant to target him, specifically—but that was wrong, it was him she was after, it was always him. He looked at her, livid. 

“See,” she said, hurt. “I knew you’d be like all the others.” 

“What others?” 

“The men.” 

He turned red, a burning sensation all along his hairline, the outside shell of his ears, the bridge of his nose and the very top of his cheeks. The heat spread to his eyes, the inside of his nose, and then he was crying out, tears splattering onto his cheeks, “What do you want? What do you want from me?” 

He curled into himself, forehead against his knees, hands gripping the opposite elbows, unable to stop. Kozue’s hands slipped through the gaps in his arms and held onto his face, lifting it up so they faced each other. She licked his cheek, left and then the right. When he kept crying, she swept her tongue up to his eyes to collect the tears. 

He pulled back, startled. “What are you doing?” 

“Taking you in. Isn’t that what you want?” 

The buttons on her blouse seemed to hang loose from their threads. He looked away, tried to. She still had his face in her hands. If she kissed him, he wouldn’t know what to do—he hadn’t been kissed many times and he didn’t want her to make fun of him. 

“Kozue,” he said. And she kissed him on the mouth, a fast, hot motion, then pulled back. Before she could pull away, he put his arm around her waist and brought her closer. The open door leading to the pier brought the smell of rotting fruit and fish. 

They had opened her blouse, letting all the buttons dangle and spin, and pulled off his pajama tops, when she said, “Stop it.” She sounded surprised to have said it. Beneath her words was a tight disgust, like a bug curling in on itself. 

“What now?” he said. 

“I don’t like you like this.” 

He couldn’t believe it. After all this time, he was finally ready to give her what she wanted from him. They had been away from each other for so long. If they didn’t do this, then what would they have once they got off this island? 

Some things you can only get by taking them. Touga had told him this. If he didn’t take this now, he’d never have it. His blinding sunlight, her pure child’s fingers depressing the velvet hammers. 

But wasn’t being here proof that those things were gone, and could no longer be claimed? 

*** 

Miki wanted to go see the turtles. He felt bad about missing them, he said. He wanted to see what she had been working on. That was well and good, but why did he have to dress up like a grandpa in a Panama hat and cargo shorts and white athletic socks and gray and green sneakers? 

“Don’t follow me too closely,” Kozue said. “I don’t want people to think we’re together.” 

“You’re going to burn,” he said. “I told you, you should’ve put on sunblock before leaving.” 

They had gone straight from his room to the outdoors. She was wearing one of his boxers. She had tried to get into his shorts, but her hips were too wide for them. She looked over her shoulder. Miki was tangled in some vines. She went on without him. A monkey tried to grab her ankle. 

“Shoo,” she said, and kicked it away. 

Miki caught up with her. He was now in a turquoise Hawaiian shirt and broad shorts. He smoothed his shirt down nervously, and put on a pair of sunglasses. 

They arrived at the lake she had taken Arisugawa to the night before. They stood on the edge of the lake. At night, the waters had been tranquil, black, and fathomless, the green growth untamed and threatening. During the day, it was easier to see just how small this place was—the clear, defined borders of water and land, of forest and clearing. 

Miki put the sunglasses on the top of his head. He shielded his eyes from the sun and said, “Do you remember Father’s fiancée, the one who left him?” 

“Who?” 

“The one with the red dress. We were supposed to go to the wedding, just before our school shut down.” 

“If she got away, then good. Father would have eaten her alive.” 

She had a Polaroid in her hands. She raised it up and started taking pictures: of the sky, of the trees, of Miki, looking across the lake, turning towards her, facing her. 

“There’s something else. We had two birds at school. What happened to them? Don’t say you don’t remember. You hurt your ankle trying to save them.” 

“We left school and they died. What else could have happened?” 

Two pictures. One of Miki’s eyes weighed down by pain. One of him turning away from her to look over the water again. 

“All right, fine,” she said. “How about this? We left, but their parents came back and took care of them and now they’re happy, raising little bird families of their own.” 

“Don’t make fun of me.” 

They heard hooves coming down the path. The greenery rustled, and Arisugawa came out, riding bareback on a gray pony. She had showered sometime before, and her skin seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. 

“What are you two doing here?” Arisugawa said, surprised. She looked at him, then her, then back again, the typical rubbernecking that happened any time they were in the same room. “Making memories?” 

“More or less,” Kozue said. 

“What are you doing here?” Miki said. 

“Fresh air.” She hopped off the pony and approached them, full of polite curiosity. “I see you two are getting along again. Come, let me take a picture.” 

“Really, you have to?” Kozue said, but the camera was spirited out of her hands and Arisugawa gave her a light shove towards Miki. Miki grimaced. Kozue put her arm around his waist. He put his around her shoulders. 

“Make your smile look normal,” he said. 

“You first.” 

Arisugawa brought the camera to her face and took two pictures. She held the Polaroids between her thumbs and index fingers on both hands and shook them vigorously. She handed them over to Miki and Kozue while the pictures were still developing, and swung back onto the pony. She looked ridiculous, yet full of vitality; Miki really suffered in comparison. Her pale, big-eyed brother, sulky because he didn’t have what he wanted. 

“Well, time for me to go. I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” Arisugawa said. “Keep in touch. You, too, Kozue.” 

She left the way she came, plunging back into the green wild on her little gray pony. Who knew where she had gotten that. She seemed to have a thing for exotic means of locomotion. 

Miki was looking at her in such a strange way; she thought he was having a sunstroke. She shook his shoulder roughly, and he batted her away—blushing. 

“What’s your problem?” she said. 

“Nothing,” he said. He knelt down beside the lake, close enough that the waters darkened the toes of his sneakers. “I was just thinking. It’s nice. You didn’t leave with Juri-san.” 

“Don’t be stupid. We still haven’t seen any turtles.” 

His left hand was on the ground, palm up, fingers extended so the back of his fingers lay on the dirt. She sat in the dirt and put her hand in his. They were still holding onto the Polaroids Arisugawa had taken. Kozue looked at the pictures, the two of them visibly uncomfortable, caught in the shadow of a towering cloud, both of their noses and necks red from sunburns. The lake like a great, white blight behind them, the trees guileless and verdant. 

“Yours is better than mine,” she said. “See, mine makes me look splotchy.” 

“Here, then,” he said, and gave her his. She took it, though she knew there wasn’t much of a difference between them, and tucked it into her bra for safekeeping.


End file.
